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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27798352">Gone, gone // Thank you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jrhnlock/pseuds/jrhnlock'>jrhnlock</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Euphoria (TV 2019), That '70s Show</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Basically every rules scene, Donna is the girl who treats her better, Eric and Jackie are best friends, Eric as Jules, F/F, F/M, Hyde as Rue, Jackie as Cassie, Kelso and Brooke are the only straights, M/M, Other, Sapphic Donna, That 70’s show but make it euphoria, hella gay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:20:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,185</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27798352</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jrhnlock/pseuds/jrhnlock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>That 70’s Show but make it Euphoria</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eric Forman &amp; Steven Hyde, Eric Forman/Buddy Morgan, Eric Forman/Steven Hyde, Jackie Burkhart/Donna Pinciotti, Michael Kelso/Brooke Rockwell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This isn’t the first chapter but I’m gonna be working on this fanfic whenever I have time during the lockdown. Hopefully I don’t blow it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. It’s 2020.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>1x01</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">”Everyone thinks you’re dead”<br/></span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>, snickers a delighted Michael Kelso from the passenger seat, dumbfounded &amp; clearly meaning no evil within his words. Steven, his, to be suspicioned deceased, friend, forces a dry laugh from the back of his throat, ragged fingers clutching his knees to prevent from cursing out loud. <em>God</em>, if only his parents had cared enough to pick him up. Or stick around. Now, obviously, living with your best friend doesn’t seem like the worst thing to ever happen. But when said friend is Michael Kelso, it’s definitely a close second. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After adjusting his sepia inked shades, Steven brings his elbow up to prep onto the arm rest, which was attached below the window of the Chevrolet Camaro. <em>A dainty fine car</em>, the curly haired thinks to himself, <em>nice enough for people to stare but not steal.</em> Big enough to pick up a third party from rehab but not enough room for his fucking legs. Or perhaps Michael’s seat was far too pushed back. Most likely the latter. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zeppelin softly snores through the radio, not perceptible from the audible interruption of cars passing them. Summer, a week before school, and broken air conditioning. Therefore, rolled down windows. The recovering addict allows his right cheek to plummet on top of bruised, bony knuckles, following the orange-yellow ombré along the skyline with washed out blue pools as eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">”What Michael really means to say..”<br/></span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">,John Kelso starts, startling both teenagers in the vehicle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1"><br/>”..is that this is a whole new start for you. We’re all really proud of you, Hyde.”<br/></span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he finishes the encouraging pep talk, deciding that’s enough co-parenting for the day. The stoner doesn’t mind and <em>kind of wishes he would</em>. Because he should. <strong>He should mind</strong>. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Staying clean isn’t an option. Not even a thought, not even a beam of light worth noticing. Luckily enough, his dealer is capitalist enough to claw at any possible profit opportunity. His name? Fez. Not a very tough, mafia boss- like street calling, I know and maybe that’s just what makes him so intimidating. Cause what’s in a name besides an identity? False advertising.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They sit in silence for the rest of the drive, Kelso’s playlist humming to them as if it were a lullaby. The single thing Hyde enjoyed more than drugs was music. Old rock, to be specific. It was the one device that felt somewhat equal to Molly floating through his system. Or at least to this point of his life, he believed it was the only other thing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That was, until him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">"<em>Holy shit.</em>“ </span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"><span class="s1"><br/>, </span> <span class="s1">the boy in the front seat mutters under his breath, which makes Hyde turn his head. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And like, <em>wow</em> . </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <strong> <em> <span class="s1">Holy shit is right. </span> </em> </strong>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sight: a brunette male, around their age, seated on a Smaragd green, perhaps the slightest bit mangled, bicycle while his black combat boot-covered feet push into the pedals with very little effort. He looks like a goddamn cartoon character and it’s weirdly mesmerizing. At least to Steven, Kelso, not so much. His bare naked skin is shaven to the point where his legs almost look milky. Above them sits a tiny skirt around the waist, black checkers on yellow print. Looking all dolled up and shit. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His upper body half is covered by a burning red t-shirt that ends somewhere under the mini, Hyde can only <em>imagine</em> how tiny it is. A soft-pink colored backpack is strapped around the mysterious biker‘s shoulders, making the earphone buds in his ear look like the most <em>normal</em> thing about him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hyde gapes, eyes glued on the figure they pass within seconds. The severe intensity of the stares doesn’t go unnoticed. For a moment, Eric glances back, causing his balance to waver from the sudden, not-very-mild attention he was receiving. He adored any kind of affection or simple human decency that was shown towards him. And while Forman had no clue whether Hyde was staring in judgement, wonder or adoration, he took it as a compliment. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">”That dude was dressed like a two dollar hooker.”<br/></span>
  </p>
  <p class="p1"> </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">, the middle child of the Kelso family chimes, a grin of pride drawn on his visage as an accessory to the comparison he’d detected. Which like, <em>sure</em> <em>whatever</em>, Kelso can think what he wants. However Hyde knows for a fact that he would’ve spent a lot more time in poorer neighborhoods, if it meant getting to see people like Eric. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">”Shut up man, let the guy wear what he wants. It’s 2020.”</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>, the stoner finds the words bubbling from his lips before he can even begin to think about an answer. They leave the conversation at that when their companion, — silence, re-enters the thick air between the three of them. It’s more of a comfortable shutting up than an awkward 'no clue what to say‘ type of situation. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At one point, Kelso‘s father brings up work, whereas the two best friends stay in absolute silence, one of them in weariness and the other in bewilderment. Can you guess which is which?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When they finally arrive, the addict comes to the conclusion that he will, undoubtedly, get wind on what that brunette princess is all about. . . .</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So there’s that! I’ve never actually published any writing piece on this platform so I hope y’all don’t judge too harshly. Anyway this idea of mixing up Euphoria &amp; T70‘S came to me this afternoon so I decided, why not turn it into something?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Sailor moon, huh?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>1x01</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Responsive fingers claw at the plastic bag with the pair of oval shaped pills inside. They’re not big, nor are they looking really affective, but Hyde takes them anyway, fiddles with the sack between his fingers and speaks a question, that comes out like an insult:</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“So what the fuck are these again?“</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Fez halts in his movement, his smooth face really doesn’t help him look intimidating. But his next words sure do.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“Since when do <em>you</em> ask questions?“</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>And then Hyde’s the one that’s offended.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“Christ, I’m just making sure you don’t wanna roofie me.“</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>The foreigner exhales on an exaggerated sigh, his hands clasping together as a soft clap rings inside Steven’s ear. He preps his body forward, hunching over the table between the two males, and the curly haired knows this position. He is about to get lectured.</p><p> </p><p>The subject? Pharmacy.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“The thing in your hand is N-diisopropyl-5-methoxytryptamine, a fast acting psychedelic. — Got some similarities to LSD but with like, key differences.“</p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“Which <em>are</em>...?“</p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“Not as visual and shit, but <em>definitely</em> a sense distorter. Mad people fuck on it.“</p>
  <p> </p>
</blockquote><p>The dealer does his usual eyebrow raise, almost taunting at Hyde’s uncertainty. You know, '<em>what are you, scared</em> ?' in a way, and <em>fuck</em>. Steven is a lot of things but scared? Not by his definition.</p><p> </p><p>Dollar bills slam on the wooden desk, leaving a slight quiver behind.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“That should cover it.”</p>
  <p> </p>
</blockquote><p>,the boy in sunglasses spits, the drugs already stuffed in his pocket. He doesn’t make it far towards the door because Fez decides to become a life advice guru.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“There’s this new guy in town that I think you’re gonna be friends with.“</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>, and <span class="u">first of all</span>, what the fuck.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“I don’t got more money man, can’t pull me with your 'I care’ bullshit, you know that.“</p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“Ain’t what I’m doing. Just saying. Should befriend the dude.“</p>
</blockquote><p><br/>
Then, <span class="u">second of all</span>, the addict is intrigued.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“Who did you say it was?”</p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“No clue man. Came in the other day, looking all <em>sailor moon and shit</em>. Made me think, ...seems like someone Hyde would get along with.“</p>
  <p> </p>
</blockquote><p>Hyde only tilts his chin slightly upwards, interest glistens for a moment. But then he remembers who he is. His face drops whilst he shrugs his shoulders lazily. A clear message:</p><p> </p><p><em>I don’t care.</em> </p><p> </p><p>But he would, very soon. Fez knows it and to some degree, Hyde is aware of it too. He purses his lips and turns on his heels, heading for the door.</p><p> </p><p>Sailor moon, huh? That definitely sparks at a memory.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A lot of discussion in this part because I love writing dialogue. Anyways, hope you enjoy!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. I hope you stay. ( I don’t. )</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>1xO1 </p><p>!!TW!! Sexual content! Minor/adult! I had to write this scene as it brings a lot of character to Jules in the show and I wanted to include it for the purpose of introducing Eric. I wrote this as well as I could, hoping to capture the obviously wrong moment but at the same time the inner monologue going through Eric</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>Eric doesn’t remember the amount of times he’d done this before. But what he does recall is that each and every time went <em>just fine</em> so why worry about this one? While most people would likely call him sick for meeting strange men from the internet in person, he finds no harm in it. With how regular these "dates" were taking place , it soon became part of a daily routine which made it feel less dangerous.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The wooden bed squeaks when the brunette takes a seat, his boots squeaking above the old motel room floor. He allows his eyes to wander for just a second in hopes of finding anything different. Anything that stands out from the other dozens of times he’d been through this procedure. Usually these meetings had their regulated follow up: an awkward <em>hello</em>, an alright but far too rough <em>fuck</em> and lastly a wordless <em>goodbye</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His pupils grow wide when he’s offered a glass of a random liquid that looks an awful lot like red wine. Delicate, nicely manicured fingers reach forward to take the drink but the tall male that stands before Forman hesitates, pulls the alcohol back an inch.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1"> “Ah.“,</span>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1"> the man speaks the word, deep and rasped, into the thin air and that alone is enough to have Eric <em>quiver</em>.</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was something <em>warm</em> about masculine, strong throated voices that left Eric‘s legs shaking like jelly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">“How old are you?“ </span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p2"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">“Uh, twenty two.“</span>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">he lies, makes it obvious too. But Cal seems to believe it, or well, <em>obliges</em> himself to believe it hence it'd be a real shame to send the young Forman home, looking like that. <br/></span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The married man presses the way too expensive wine into Eric‘s hand who accepts it with a captivating smile &amp; a gentle 'Thanks'.Being looked down at like this is weird, in a way, then again evens out due to the hole it fills in the teen‘s heart. The hole of a missing, abusive father figure. <em>Anyway</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">“Do you live in town?“</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p2"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">“No. I’m just visiting my grandparents“</span>
  </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">Another lie. </span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p2"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">“Hmm.“, guess he couldn’t look past that one. </span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p2"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">“What about you?“, queries the brunette and tilts his head to the side as if to say: </span>
  </p>
  <p class="p1"> </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>
      <span class="s1">Like it matters where I’m from, does your wife know where you are right now?</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">
  
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And Cal swallows, takes the hint. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">”Do you walk around like this?” </span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A large hand passes Eric‘s face and moves into his soft mane, caressing at a couple strands. It makes him want to lean in, makes him want to cry, laugh and fall to his death. But he sits. Still and pretty. Dark blue pools find Cal‘s face after a couple seconds of avoiding his gaze. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">”What do you mean?“</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p2"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">“Well is this how you look generally?“</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And as sweet as Eric is, he looks down at himself, checks on his outfit. A blue, floral printed, long sleeve shirt and a short, dark purple overall. This couldn’t be too feminine right? Christ, even if it <em>is</em>, what’s the issue with that? This is how he expressed himself, it’s always been. And now that his father was out of his life, he didn’t have to fear a beating when coming home in a skirt. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">“I mean...yeah.“ Fuck this guy.</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p2"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">“You’re beautiful.” </span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Oh</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That wasn’t supposed to happen. Cal was meant to declare his misogyny through a sexist comment which would allow Eric to leave. But this, this was a lot worse. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Because Eric <em>smiles</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">“Thank you.“</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p2">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">“I‘m envious of your generation, you know. You guys don’t care as much about the rules. “</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">, the adult‘s tone is sweet, careful and the teen is <em>gone</em>, nodding absentmindedly with every word that slips from the other man‘s mouth. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">“You know, I think that’s a good thing.“</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Two fingers lift at the younger‘s chin, mindlessly fondling up and down. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">“And I don’t want to be that old guy that gives you advice.“</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The tip of the stranger‘s index finds his way to the boy‘s nose, giving a gentle boop. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eric <em>smiles</em> <strong><em>again</em></strong>.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">“But I look at you and I think there are..“</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Suddenly the pad of a thumb brushes across Forman‘s lower lip, proceeds to help itself to the upper one and stops once it reaches the bottom half again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p2"><br/>“...two versions of your life can go. You either go some place where you’re wanted for who you are. Or you can stay in a town like this. End up like me. Living your life out in motel rooms.“</p>
</blockquote><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next words are what <em>break</em> Eric into pieces, pick him back up and put him together into something new. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1"> </p>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">“<em>Selfishly...I hope you stay.</em>“</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The male presses his thumb down, responsively the mouth beneath falls open. <em>Allows</em> him inside. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>The teen keeps his head high while the bitterness of Cal‘s thumb rubs against his taste buds, a breath escapes through his nose and prevents a choke. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">“<em>Wider</em>.“</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And he complies.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">“<em>Wider</em>.“ the voice repeats and it feels as though it rumbles through his entire body, from every single piece of hair on his head to each toe. </span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He parts his mouth as far as physics allow, driving aches into the corners of his lips. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <span class="s1">“There you go. <em>Good boy</em>.“ </span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And that’s the last moment Eric gets to enjoy of that night.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>There goes another chapter. I didn’t want to involve the sex scene as it’s just horrific in my opinion. I do need some advice on the next chapter tho: Would you prefer something about the other characters (for example Jackie and Donna) or would you like for me to write the first meeting of Jules &amp; Rue aka Eric &amp;Hyde. Let me know if you read this lol.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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